


and there's no mountain too high, no river too wide

by r1ker



Category: In and Out (1997)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-06-24
Packaged: 2018-04-05 21:35:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4195749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r1ker/pseuds/r1ker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the wedding is harder than he thinks it'll be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and there's no mountain too high, no river too wide

**Author's Note:**

> #inandoutsquad

The second time they’re together is at the reception following his parents’ wedding. It’s a big affair, of course, the whole town out and about at this outside pavilion, but he’s sticking pretty close to a table in the back, watching the candles in the center of the table burn and melt their wax down onto the tablecloth. He’s startled out of his reverie by a large hand on his back.

            Peter’s face is all melded shadows when Howard looks up at him. Giving him that same million-dollar smile like he had the day of Howard’s fated wedding, Peter takes the other seat available at the table.

            “Well aren’t you going to get out there and socialize with your people?” Peter pipes up once the mutual silence between them becomes a little too much to bear. Howard looks at him blankly and averts his eyes down.

            “It’s Mom and Dad’s night,” he says as plain as day. He’s so conflicted by a number of things that small chat like what those other people would give would do nothing to solve his inner turmoil. It was supposed to be his night but he isn’t even all that upset about it not being that anymore. He’s not sad about not getting married. God, he doesn’t know why he’s getting increasingly upset.

            “It’s yours too,” Peter provides, resting his head on one of his hands in order to get a view of Howard’s obscured face. “They’re your parents, aren’t they? You can’t be in the dark for the rest of your life.” Howard doesn’t respond and goes back to staring at the candle, watching it waste away into a melted pile. “There’s something else you’re not telling me.”

            Howard still looks away, staring at the empty table settings arranged around him. Dinner’s in a little while, he reckons. The plates weren’t there when he started his wallow about an hour ago.

            “Do you want me to go away?” Peter’s trying to push his buttons, make him say or do something that isn’t as entirely melancholy as he feels right now. A lump gets stuck in the high point of Howard’s throat and he’s finding it hard to swallow around it. He mumbles no as he hides his face in the crook of his elbow. He means it, he guesses. Peter’s the only thing right now keeping him from going out and doing something much more destructive than sitting at your former wedding pavilion and moping about how your parents got married and you didn’t.

            “Do you want me to get you cake from the table?” Howard shakes his head, feigning off tears he didn’t know were collecting in the corners of his eyes. He can’t breathe, the anvil that was once residing in his windpipe moving down to rest comfortably on the high point of his heart.

            “Do you want me to stop talking now because I can?” Howard’s face starts to break but he holds it back long enough to again shake his head, burrow his face further in the crook of his elbow. Now he’s embarrassed to be so emotional at his parents’ wedding, the wedding that was supposed to be his. He feels ashamed of himself, having lied for so long about everything.

            Peter switches seats to the other empty chair on the other side of Howard. He doesn’t like how secretive Howard’s being right now. Peter remembers being like this, so ashamed but having no one to talk to. It’s awful and he knows Howard can’t go though this, have his lively spirit shattered in such an ugly way.

Seeing his face and the tears sliding casually down his nose to darken the sleeve of his shirt, he uses his thumb to catch the rest of them.

            The rest of the guests have gone outside where the festivities manifest in karaoke and cake brought out from the indoor kitchen. It’s quiet, save for a few people mulling around by the bar with the overworked tender.

            Howard’s starting to get a bit more hysterical as the minutes tick by and Peter decides to put an end to this once and for all. Standing up from his seat, he extends a hand to Howard confidently. “Come on, we’ll wash your face.” Howard takes it and stands on wobbly feet and follows Peter to the back of the cabin where the two private bathrooms are.

            Once the door is shut Howard loses it. He falls back to sit on a hamper and hide his face in both of his hands. Peter stands on the sidelines, back against the tiles surrounding the toilet, and watches Howard deconstruct entirely. It’s not at all the panic induced hysterics he had earlier in the week. Then, Peter instantly deduced, it was chalked up to newly found homosexuality and that alone would make anyone go wild. Now, he’s sad to think that this is all Howard’s newly realized sense of aloneness, without his job and fiancée, he’s going to find it hard to stick around for something or anything.

            Peter rolls a clump of toilet paper off of the stand and hands it to Howard to dry his face off. With a shaking hand, Howard clutches it tightly and makes no move to wipe his red face.

            “You’re going to be okay,” he reminds Howard over and over and soon it gets to a point where he doesn’t know who he’s reassuring anymore. Howard’s hands fall from his face and Peter is slowly shattered by just how devastated he looks. Tears catch in his eyelashes but some escape to slide down his face as it screws up. “Oh, Howard.”

At that statement Howard falls forward into his arms. Peter catches him, as is his job for the time being, and holds him close. It’s much more different than when they kissed in the intersection. Now it’s just as hysterical but of a different brand, distress rather than blind concern, and Peter does what he can. Howard hangs onto him for dear life, hands grasping at Peter’s sports coat.

“Here, sit back up here,” Peter grits out from Howard’s strong grip, and almost lifts him back onto the hamper. The two separate and Peter looks him in the eye. It makes something in Peter ache to see those eyes red and bloodshot but this is catharsis. It has to happen.

Peter takes the tissue from Howard’s clenched hand and wipes at his face, tossing it away once it’s fully soaked. He lets Howard cling to him a little more, hand finding the back of Howard’s head and stroking at the hair there.

“Your parents love you more than you know,” Peter says off-handedly. Howard nods into his shoulder, doesn’t let go. Peter’s staring at the wall rather than Howard and he’s trying his best not to get his own emotions tied up into this. “A lot of people love you. I talked to some of your students last week and none of them had anything to say other than how good of a teacher you are and how much of a friend you’ve been to them. And, well, I loved you the first second I saw you. That hair, those eyes, you were a stunner. Don’t ever think for a second none of us would be there for you. Don’t think it, not even for a second.”

Howard pulls back from his hold and looks at him. Peter can see he looks a lot better now, eyes dry and face only lightly flushed. He does notice, however, that something other than his own brand of grief simmers behind his eyes. Howard leans in and Peter doesn’t have to guess what he’s going to do next.

Howard shares Peter’s space and for just a second their lips hover above one another. When he kisses Peter it’s feather-light, a gesture so soft one would assume it was done under entirely different circumstances than the ones existing around them now. Peter pushes him back against the wall, right up against the light switch, and surges forward.

It doesn’t take long before Peter suddenly wants every inch of him, moving down to claim the sharp line of his jaw with an eager mouth, hearing breath rasp in and out of his lungs. He snorts when he can taste lingering notes of his own cologne, knowing that Howard had come to him in a frenzy early that morning looking for some to wear to the wedding. Just another symbol of how subtly he is claimed by Peter.

Peter feels something settle on the back of his head and for a second he has to ration out what it could be – Howard’s hand, keeping him right there mouthing bruises into the stubbled skin of Howard’s neck.

He pulls back after a few moments to draw in breath and gets his first glimpse at a newly liberated Howard, pupils blown and swallowing the hazel in his eyes, breath slowly hissing in and out of his nose. Peter holds Howard’s face in his hands, turning him side to side slowly to see if he’s even in the right mind to be acting this way. It’s like a switch has flipped and Howard’s tears have dried, been replaced with dark eyes and determined face.

“Are you okay?” Peter asks him after studying him for a few minutes. Howard nods, slow, steady, and secure.

“As much as I’ll ever be,” Howard says quietly, almost too much for Peter to hear him properly. He bets that Howard will be, later on, perhaps not tonight. The two of them part, choosing to finish this chapter at a different date, but the rest of the time spent in the bathroom is not without intimacy. Howard chooses to rest his head on Peter’s shoulder and allows himself to indulge in the touch he denied himself for so long, finally having rid his mind of prior things that left him ashamed.


End file.
